Sexy Mafia Novels & Stories

Maddox might fall short in those areas but money and business was his speciality. For instance, Sin City sat at the centre of the night city, drawing in only those with affluence and money. Sin City, the best bet for the wealthiest and the more secure from the paparazzi. Now that Maddox thought about it, it's been a while since a field day with the paparazzi. It helped that they didn't know who he was to the establishment. As Maddox stared out the window in his office, he contemplated investing in real estate. Sin City could only remain at its peak for so long. Nothing lasted forever, just like the organization back in Italy. Whatever racked in more money…

he asked “The one by the mall, the one in the north where that parking lot is facing…” “That is my best spot, Andres… you cannot do this” Manuel whined “And the east side that is free from the cops. You should be grateful that I am allowing you keep your life, you will bounce back and make sure I never have to take up arms against your family, is that understood?” “You have a deal” Manuel said, sighing. The once strong mafia lord, felled by his own children; thankfully I never did love kids so I wasn’t going to worry about having any with Catherina because I wanted none.

No one else would dare. I had escaped my father but I just basically went from frying pan to fire. Hakan was Scorpion, there was no doubt about it. I was in the arms of the deadliest and most feared mafia boss in the whole country and maybe further than that.

He faced me by turning his chair around. The cruel enemy's name is Emir Alffiaco. He was a horrible man. When I say terrible, I mean awful. I'm talking about the kind of evil that involves prostitution rings and the exploitation of young women. To make my life a living misery, he is exploiting even the mafia. I will not stop seeking justice to ensure that he rots away in the deepest part of hell.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His expression turned ice-cold. “Then let me spell it out for you.” He moved like a man about to deliver a death sentence, his voice dropping to something razor-sharp. “Your mother.” A step closer. “Your father.” Another step. “Your grandfather.” Sienna barely breathed. Alessandro stopped just inches from her, his gaze drilling into hers. “Mafia.” The room tilted. A sharp ringing filled her ears. No. No, that wasn’t—

“She wants us, not Gabriella. She knows if she lays a hand on her, the Familia will burn the Bratva to the ground. And Max, he’ll always protect her. You know how lethal he is.” “Svetlana’s sadistic,” Matt says, his eyes still locked on the screen. “But she’s not suicidal. She knows where the line is, and if she crosses it by hurting the Familia’s princess, they won’t survive. We might not like the Camorra, but we have peace treaties in place with the Chicago Outfit, the Rizzuto Family, Dhak-Duhre, the Punjabi Mafia, the West End Gang, the Triads, even some of the biker crews. If the Bratva crosses this line, there’ll be nowhere for them to hide.” “Then it’s settled,” I reply, my voice low a

Names are written on the table to demarcate each mafia from another. The whole place was very crowded, members are seen smoking, drinking and talking at the top of their voices with old-time friends. Conversations were loud, with curse words and threats. Whores and bitches were seen shaking their cheap ass around. Finding potential customers to grace their bed tonight. Just then, everyone except me shouted in excitement when Sibia climbed the stage, her big hips swaying, and her heels clicking against the floor. Every male gender has a lust for her. Sibia is a stripper who doesn’t fuck around with anyone. One faithful night at a club in Italy, I happened to run into her. We drank, and she ha

It seemed impossible, yet here she was, held captive and used as bait. She leaned closer to the door, straining to hear as much as she could. The men outside were speaking Italian, and though she didn't understand all of the words, she could make out some key phrases. "...mafia...don Marko..." "...from the Italian mafia..." Her heart hammered as she tried to absorb this new information. So, Marko was involved with the Italian mafia? That would explain some things, but it also filled her with more dread.

“Congratulations, Boss!” Without waiting for the celebration, Drake turned on his heel and walked out of the church. Amy followed closely behind, flanked by a sea of suits and heavy artillery. The moment the heavy church doors slammed shut behind them, the priest’s knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the altar floor, completely unconscious. Meanwhile, across the city, the atmosphere was entirely different. Inside the fortified syndicate of the Blood Pact Mafia. The second largest crime syndicate in Italy. Athan, a hardened man in his early fifties, sat high on a leather chair that served as his throne. The air in his private chambers was thick with the pungent, sweet scent of a heavy blunt

"And Jet, you're dismissed." Jet and Marcus left, leaving me alone. As the door closed, I leaned back in my chair, studying the photo of Siara once more. I tapped a finger against the edge of the folder, a predatory gleam in my eye. "What a bloody good coincidence," I whispered to myself. I reopened the folder and started reading through Siara Movark's file in detail. It was no longer about the money-no, it was personal. It was revenge.